Vienna Full of White
by ElGato44
Summary: Austria is no longer that great Empire he used to be. Yet, he lives among the snow covered remnants of his glory and pride. What can be rebuilt?
1. Chapter 1

Prenote and Disclaimer: Alright, this is my first Hetalia fic. The only reason I watch/read this is because the author/Funimation is brilliant in every way and this has to be the smartest anime out there. I know it has a large fan following (though please guys, Hetalia is not a replacement for a history book or research). There really isn't a character I don't like...but I do dislike the random fan pairings (you do realize the UK and France hate each other right? And that Prussia never really had anything to do with Hungary historically). I know the author throws that stuff in there just to please those yaoi fans but oh well...what ever floats you guys' boats.

There is some Austro-Hungarianess but that's not the point of the story (and yes folks...that is the only canon and historical pair peeps...no matter how much some will claw Prussia in there *groans*)

Anywho...I decided to insert a lot of current event references combined with historical references that I will footnote at the bottom.  
>Otherwise...let's give this a shot.<p>

* * *

><p>Chapter 1<p>

The winter months struck Austria with cold and wonder.

Even now the country lay on his bed in his home flat hiding in the bleak warmth. He had been around for what? Over a thousand years? Now he was feeling a bit strained, every year of that millennium beginning to wear on him.

Currently, he looked physically young-ish. Not young like Italy or Lichtenstein, but not yet middle aged. But, boy he felt older than France and Greece combined.

He just did not want to get up today. He didn't want to get up any day.

His meetings with the other European Nations were just a disaster. Most of it was about the Euro and its shaky status. Money was the only way to get the European Nations to ally with each other, but it was the most toxic thing that joined them.

His meetings with the other nations, European and otherwise, was just a hellhole. Half of those countries were in utter chaos.

Greece was working harder than he ever did to try stabilizing his financial status, yet the fact that he took frequent naps did not help his cause any.

America often came in looking tired, his tie askew, hair even more ruffled and looking older by the day, solving his own issues that have just piled up over the years.

Hell, most of the European nations were on a short fuse lately. The only thing that calmed Britain down was the joyous wedding of his royal family a year ago. Now he was missing meetings to try to prepare for the Olympics.

China would come in and brag about his booming economy, yet he was considerate enough not to hound countries like America for money they owed.

Japan had gotten better very quick after that horrible sickness and that caused seizures in his body and cold sweats.

France was being his obnoxious self, trying to hide the fact that Europe's problems were quickly going to strike his heart.

Germany seemed to be the only one stable and confident. He had everything in order, his life was good, his financial status great and stable despite the crumbling nations around him.

Well, good for him.

Austria guessed he deserved some reprieve after how he was treated at Versailles that directly caused massive chaos over the next century.

However, Austria was forever linked to Germany after he allowed the blond man to annex him during those dreadful years in WWII. It was either that or total destruction that he was sure he could never recover from. To this day he could hear those cries of 200,000 of his people as they were dragged away to be confined in camps. He would forever regret it, and it would forever be his fault.

Now the Jewish community were rebuilding themselves slowly, but it left a scar on Austria, who was, in himself, part Jewish.*

Bygones be bygones, he thought as he rolled over in his bed. Germany's prosperity was melting onto him a little, given their connection. Germany was one of the few who thought to visit him, looking happier than he had ever been. Otherwise, Austria secluded himself. He rarely spoke at meetings and sometimes refused to go.

All those blustering nations always gave him headaches. He was silent, taking in all those hurtful comments about Serbians and Franz Ferdinand and the Anschluss and being Germany's bed buddy.

Some had more respect for him than that as he was an older nation, but it didn't mean that Austria didn't remember every excruciating failure from the fall of the Austrian Empire to the global economic crisis.

Austria breathed out, feeling a light chill from the winter midmorning. He was feeling depressed and he felt that he was aging fast. His bones were beginning to ache and that hindered him from getting motivation to do even the simplest of his pastimes. Even, his piano downstairs in his parlor was gathering dust.

In the back of his mind, he thought this depressive phase was a sign of a sickness, of his age, of the inevitability that he will be gone.

Though he had not really witnessed it, nations die.

Perhaps he was dying too.

After all, what was left? Tourism? Nowadays no one took merit into his say. He was just a small Germanic country now. Still the middle road between northern, southern, western, and eastern Europe. He figured it did well with his diversity as a nation, but in the past, this diversity only caused heartache**.

_Reduced __to __a __buffer,_ he thought bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest, still laying on his side, looking at the snow fall.

He closed his eyes, trying to retreat back into his fantasy. A totally real time in which he was strong and respected. Other nations would bow in gratitude and ask for his advice, looking up to him like a parent or an older brother. He was as great as any nation and ruled a large part of Europe, nothing to scoff at given the animosities and diverse cultures of Europe.

That all went into a shit-storm at the turn of the last century.

* * *

><p>Outside Austria's home, Germany sighed. Austria had been acting oddly during the last few meetings. Refusing to speak when his time was given. He instead would lend his time to Germany or the Czech Republic or Russia.<p>

And lately…he was not present.

Germany was now worried about his former housemate. They both had similar principles though Austria was not nearly a hard worker as Germany.

The tall blond man straightened his business coat, not so much as flinching in the chilled weather. He pounded on the door. No answer. He decided to call out the man's name. No answer.

With dull shake of his head, Germany left the man's doorstep.

* * *

><p>Austria cringed in his bed, hearing Germany's pleas for him to open his door. No doubt to force to go to those damn conferences. He cursed. Something he didn't often do until recently. He pounded his hand against the cold mattress and forced himself to sit up in bed.<p>

Running his hands over his face, he peered out his window.

The snow dusted streets of Vienna. Cold and calm, gentle. His Vienna. The apple of his eye. How this magnificent place still maintained the remnants of his former glory was beyond him. Couples walked quietly about the historical streets, wrapped comfortably in their warm coats, smiling as their breaths caressed the air.

Winter in Vienna was special. It was warm. Not in physical sense, mind you, but a soft, nostalgic warmth that always seemed to curl around in his breast. It was beautiful.

Not like the colorless gray winters in Russia or Finland. Winters here had, he figured, a musical warm ambiance and character. Heck, the only thing gray and dull was his god-forsaken place.

Slowly, feeling his bones creak, he stood up, still staring at the cobblestone streets and the people passing by. Scratching the back of his neck he headed towards his bathroom and turned on the lights.

He turned on the taps of his shower and let it run, waiting for the water to turn hot. He took off his white beater and dropped it on the floor. Before doing anything else, he took a good hard look at himself in the mirror.

Jesus, what happened?

He used to be trim and well groomed. Now, well, it could have been worse, he suspected. His body and weight were just fine. He did thicken around his waist a little, so now he looked stocky, but built and toned enough, he guessed. The body of a very fit middle-aged man. No longer that desired slim, straight T frame he used to have in his youth.

No, his body was not the problem. It was just…him.

His eyes looked weary, the violet piercing irises shining pale. His brown hair was now lank. Even his Mariazell curl seemed to sag. He rubbed the beard that was growing on his face, thick enough to cover his mole. Should he shave his face?

Austria let out a breath, shoulders slumping, and he began removing his sleeping pajamas.

Whenever Austria showered, his mind had a tendency to wander. Usually working out tunes and melodies in his head. Other times his mind would wander to his regretful past.

Now as the hot water worked the aching muscles of his back, his mind wandered to the day when he heard those gunshots.

He heard his heir cry, ""_Sopherl!__ Sopherl!__ Sterbe__nicht! __Bleibe__am __Leben__für__unsere__ Kinder!__" _(Sophie dear! Sophie! Don't die! Stay alive for our children!)***

Not long after he had to watch the burial of Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie. Hungary gathered the Archduke's children and comforted them while he was silent, rage churning against the Serbians. Recklessly, he became hell bent in wringing Serbia's throat despite the despicable and horrid web of uneasy alliances that wove around Europe.

The beginning of the end.

His marriage with Hungary collapsed shortly after, and needless to say it was never the same. With World War II, the Iron Curtain, the Cold War, the European Union, he couldn't find time to mend anything back and he quickly lost his drive to.

What was Hungary up to now, again? He'd only seen her a few times hanging around with the Slavic nations. That's right. He almost forgot. She was helping form the Visegrad with Poland, Slovakia, and Czech Republic to combine their militaries into one uber-Eastern European force.

While she was worried about her relations with her neighbors, Austria made sure that he had some of his country's financial investors at least bring in some revenue into her country. It was the least he could do.

He didn't realize how long he was in the shower, but the water turned cold and he quickly turned the tap off. Austria wrapped a towel around his waist and began to vigorously brushing his teeth.

He slipped on a plain white button-up shirt and some slacks and head downstairs of his dark and dreary house.

He wanted a cappuccino or something…stronger. The sharp ticking of his grandfather clock pulled his attention. Now it was late morning…a half hour before noon. He could forgo a cappuccino and go strait to a Schnapps or Jaeger. Those would certainly light a fire under his lazy ass. He pulled open the cabinets to find that both desired alcoholic mixes were empty or close to it. He groaned and sighed, suddenly feeling a pounding in his head.

In the darkness, he strode to his parlor, gazing tiredly at his neglected piano. He could try to give it a go. He tried every morning so far and every morning he left the bench with barely a note played. Though it was doubtful, maybe today he could get something started.

He eased himself on the bench with a grunt. There was no music in front of him. He didn't really need it. He knew most of his favorite pieces by heart and there was no point to music sheets if he was working on writing a new one. Or at least attempting to.

He slowly pushed the metal rod of the metronome, creating a ticking rhythm at a moderate pace. He sucked in a breath. What was he in the mood for? A nocturne? A sonata? An impromptu? God, he didn't know.

He was in the mood for nothing at the moment. The incessant ticking of the metronome along with the grandfather clock was the only sound in the house. Austria was never really alone, until now.

He slowly rubbed his worn hand on his neck, working those aged knots out himself. With a sigh and a grunt, he shut his eyes tight. He wasn't in the mood today. He shut off the metronome, and closed the case of the piano. The man didn't bother with coffee or cake or eggs, he just went back upstairs to his bedroom, lay back on the bed, fully clothed and slept through the day.

* * *

><p>Kind of a dull start eh? This is a subdued story...but hopefully you'll find it a little relieving later on.<p>

*Austria himself isn't officially Jewish and there is a picture of him with a cross necklace so he's officially Catholic I believe. However his human last name, Edelstein, is a Jewish surname and a good portion of Austria's population was Jewish until...well..a lot of things really. So I thought it would make an interesting dynamic.

**This was one of the problems within the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The had such a diverse group of people (Slavs, Czechs, Serbs, Roms, etc.) within their Empire that it became next to impossible to not offend or piss off one group with any legislation.

***This was Franz Ferdinand's words to his dying wife after they were shot while still in the car. Shortly thereafter they both died (well...yeah...duh sinisterkat...we all know that).

Austria financially is doing fairly well right now and Germany is doing REALLY well. Greece...not so much. I almost laughed when I realized his personalization always slept in the show and the strips. Well, now we know where their financial crash came from...

Anschluss is the annexation of Austria...now there are some who say it was a union (mostly by Nazi reports) others say it was a forced annexation. I don't know the circumstances and I don't want to get into it. I'm just assuming, judging by Hitler's goals, that their annexation wasn't necessarily full of roses and butterflies.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Countries are owned by themselves. Their depictions are owned by stereotypes and Hidekaz

Chapter 2

Finally, the next day, he worked up the motivation to even get out of bed. He slept too much and couldn't even sleep anymore. What else was there to do?

Drink himself unconscious he supposed.

Snow was falling as he got himself ready. He didn't shave his whiskers off, but he did comb his hair back. He should at least look decent out in public, not like a homeless wreck.

He wrenched a long black coat and scarf from his closet and wrapped it around himself, finishing off with black leather gloves. He sucked in a breath and opened his front door, the soft cold weather greeting him. He breathed out and his breath came out in a delicate smoke. As he took steps off his stoop, his feet crunched in the snow. He used to love that sound, the very indicator of a healthy winter.

Yes, Vienna was healthy. He was happy for her then. But himself...that was another story. He walked along the walkways observing people walking by. Young children ran ahead of their mothers, eager to let loose in this weather. He passed by a young woman, who smiled at him and wished him a good morning. An older gentleman did the same, lifting his hat in greeting.

Rather than being caught up in the whims of his people, Austria kept his sights on the buildings. Those rich Rococo and Neoclassical buildings were plentiful and it could be easy to get lost, as he did so frequently in his own city.

But today he knew where he was going. He passed by the Universität Wien* seeing young men and women playing lightheartedly with snowballs. Austria stood away from the rough housing, but turned when someone called behind him.

"_Entschuldigen__ Sie__bitte_, Professor." (Excuse me, professor)

Austria turned around to see a young woman wearing a winter beanie, and holding a book to her chest. The girl's face fell when she saw his face, "_Entschuldigung_(Sorry). I thought you were someone else."

Austria's brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. He did not smile but instead replied, "_Macht __nichts_ (It's alright)."

Austria continued with his walk not bothering with the girl as she slowly wandered back towards the university building. He must not have looked at all approachable or incredibly sad. He knew the pity in the girl's eyes when she saw him.

He turned a few corners and found himself on the cobblestone path of a market street.

He entered a rathskeller to find it fairly quiet and bare. There were only a few tired businessmen having brunch. Slow jazz music played in the background. It wasn't Austria's usual cup of tea but he rather deal with that than being in one of these places during a soccer tourney.

Austria headed straight to the bar, the bearded bartender eyeing him with worried eyes.

"_Hallo_. It's a little early for a straight drink, is it not?"

"Your bar is open, so I am free to indulge," Austria bit out a little more harshly than he should have. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses, "I'm sorry, please don't mind me."

The bartender chortled, "_Ja,__ Ja._What can I get you then?"

"Schnaps."

"Coming right up."

Not a moment later a large shot glass appeared before him. He thanked the bartender and downed it, not noticing the other man shaking his head in dismay. Austria let the liquor slide through his system for a while, closing himself in, even when a sharply dressed businessman and woman entered.

"Jeesh, it's chilly outside," the man announced brushing the snow off his shoulders while the woman removed her cap and gloves.

"_Ja_," the bartender grunted, "Have yourselves a seat anywhere. Someone will serve you."

"_Danke,__"_ the woman waved and the couple turned into the dining area.

Austria sighed, feeling the bartender's eyes on him.

"Another one please," he asked, pushing the glass forward and the bartender immediately poured in more alcohol.

Slowly, the lunch crowd started pouring in, filling the place with hungry businessmen and women. A few others joined him at the bar. They, like him, were lonely fellows, or already had a long day and just did not want to deal with others.

Austria decided that it was time for him to leave.

"Will you sell me that bottle of Schnaps?" he asked and the bartender grinned pulling the dark, honey-colored bottle out from underneath the bar.

"Good, ja?" he said, turning the label to him, "Comes from a distillery in Deutchland. I can sell it to you for 34 Euro."

"34?" Austria repeated sounding surprised. He sighed and pulled out the notes from his pocket anyway, "I bet you a month ago the price in Euro would have been less."

"Come back next month it might be more expensive or less, who knows? Do you want to take that risk?" the bartender said. Austria knew the man was haggling, or at least he was presenting it like a house up for sale. The rathskeller had to earn its keep somehow.

Austria paid the man and he handed him the bottle. The bartender wished him a good day, and Austria could only respond with a faint wave of his hand.

Of course, he got lost on the way back. So many tall buildings he couldn't keep track of. He pulled his scarf over his face feeling the biting chill across his nose. He hid the bottle of Schnaps in the inside of his coat, walking stiffly as the soft chill turned harsh. The street was now slowly becoming crowded as the lunch crowd streamed in. He turned in an alley, the tall buildings blocking the wind and went on the street on the other side of the block.

It was an older part of the city. A few of these old buildings, he recognized that they used to be churches, or housing for higher class visitors to the city. Now it was empty. Not quite derelict, but it couldn't boast much of the grandeur that it used to have. There was just old rustic common Rococo style buildings.

Austria closed his eyes, and let a soft sigh.

He could just hear the grand orchestra playing concertos for the Empire's elite, the carriages rolling through, horses clopping on the street, gathering at one place.

He started further down the quiet street, ignoring the curious look of an old Hungarian former refugee, sweeping the snow dust from her stoop. The building he was seeing was, to anyone else, a large old abandoned opera house, but to him it was something much more.

He recognized this. The Neoclassical French stone-cut design, the degraded statues, boarded up windows and doors, fallen columns. Inside there was something tangible and holy to him.

He ascended the chipped stone steps to the arched door, finding it chained up, condemned. Austria stepped back and observed the building trying to figure out a way to enter it. He snuck to the side, where the servant's entrance would have been. It too was boarded, but Austria, with a hesitant glance over his shoulder, wrenched the board from the doorway. He thanked his lucky stars he wore gloves, because he surely would have gotten splinters. Nevertheless, the board was free from the doorway. He was free to go inside.

The inside of the concert hall was dark and dank, unused, obviously. Austria walked past the nooks for the servants' belongings and through the rusted kitchens. Out past that door was the grand entrance hall, the velvet red carpet worn but still there.

In the present, the large hall was hauntingly quiet, the only noise the soft wind whistling through the boards of the windows high above. Inside his head though, he could hear the distant voices of the past, laughing and discussing, the clinking of champagne glasses.

The small chandeliers hung rusted above, some barely hanging off the plastered mural of the ceiling, the paint so worn that all that was left was the ghostly underpainting of angels and cherubs and clouds. The floral painted walls were still peeling off, leaving unsightly patches of plaster.

Austria turned up one of the flanking grand staircases of the entrance hall up to the parlors and balcony seats. He wandered along the pathway, looking down at the main concert hall. The hall was dark and musty, the bits of concrete and stone and broken seats littering the floor. White drapes covered hidden sculptures and instruments on the stage. He tore his gaze away from the sad remnants of the hall to the small cozy inner hall that held the parlor rooms to the box seats. He passed a chipped portrait of a woman he knew. A woman he held dear. He entered a parlor room that obviously reserved for aristocrats and royalty.

It was large and dark, but oddly cozy compared to the rest of the opera house. Dusty straight-backed chairs and a velvet sofa faced the large fireplace.

Austria swallowed as vivid memories charged through his mind. He ran his hand on the wooden backing of the sofa remembering a time he was in this very room, in front of his boss…

_The fireplace was roaring, warming the room in soft comfort from the blistering winter outside. Austria held his hands behind his back staring at the blond woman sitting on the sofa. She was, in his opinion, an attractive lady, but she held a sort of confident strength that often intimidated other men, especially royal men from other countries._

"_Austria, is the orchestra ready?" she asked him._

_"I just checked and they should be ready when the show starts. There will be no delay."_

"_Good," Maria Theresa smiled, "My husband has taken to courting a few gentlemen downstairs-and ladies as well."_

_Austria kept his mouth shut. He did not dare express his thoughts on Francis Stephen's philandering ways. Yet, his brow furrowed when he noted the sadness in the matriarch's eyes. Normally he didn't care one way or another who was sleeping with who, but this woman was his boss. And his boss cared for him deeply._

"_Ah!" she let out a soft cry of pleasant surprise. She placed a gloved hand over her swollen belly._

"_Is something wrong?" he asked trying to hide his concern._

_Maria Theresa shook her head, "No everything's fine. The baby just kicked."_

"_Should I retrieve your husband?"_

"_No, relax my Austria," she giggled. "You have seen me give birth three times before. Surely you should know all about when it is time for an expectant mother to bring her child into the world."_

_He quietly nodded and took a sheepish step back. She noticed, quietly laughing at her country's shyness. Scooting a little to the side on the sofa, she patted the empty space beside her, an indication for him to sit beside her. He did so, feeling hesitancy and anticipation churning in his stomach._

"_I-er-I wish there was a harpsichord in here. I could play you some tunes before the concert begins…" he thought to make idle conversation, anything to distract him from how intimate and private this situation just became._

"_It's alright, but I will take you up on that later perhaps, if you are feeling up to it."_

_Maria Theresa seemed oddly vulnerable this evening. She was always forthright and imposing for her gender, but sure, he could see that the ridicule she was experiencing from other monarchies were causing her to doubt herself. All just because she was a woman._

_Austria rocked impatiently, rubbing his hands together. He should probably leave. He was a nation, but that didn't stop the feeling that being in here alone with her was somehow inappropriate. Plus, given their history…_

_Maria Theresa gave a soft sigh and wrapped her fingers around one of his wrists._

_"Here…feel," she said._

_Austria swallowed as she rested his hand on her belly. He was certain she could see his brow crease in discomfort and his jaw clench. Even through her dress her skin was warm, the child kicking beneath._

_Despite the glaring intimacy of this action, Austria couldn't help but feel in awe. This could be his future boss beneath his hand, the future of his country. His future._

Now, Austria sat on the same sofa, head hung low, the bottle of Schnaps open in his hand. The proud line of the Hapsburgs were gone, vanished before his eyes.

And Maria Theresa…

He was ashamed to tell anyone but he was once her lover. She cared for him and he felt sorry for her because of her husband's affairs. Maria Theresa was no harlot though. She'd pray her heart out, trying to get rid of her guilt after every encounter with Austria. Was it so wrong of her to love her own country? It wasn't just that. If Austria wasn't the least bit sure, he could very well assume that at least one of her sixteen children was his own. But he was certain that was not the case.

It didn't matter much now. She was dead and buried, along with her children. It wasn't easy to see her descendents be born and die, but he got used to it as he aged.

Now he thought he was immune to seeing his bosses and citizens die over time. Or so he thought...

Austria ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath, rebottling the Schnaps.

* * *

><p>* Basically and literally University of Vienna. Its actually a very prestigious school. Kinda like the Harvard or Oxford of Austria. Probably one of the best schools in Europe<p>

A little note-these translations are conversational...so no online translators were used. The German language is a little tricky so no one should really be using those online translators. Just check out a book about the German language future Hetalia writers. Same goes for every other country not just Germanic. I see a lot of mistranslations or words misused in Hetalia stories. Mind you, my translations aren't perfect, but I do know some German so I know its closer than any online translator.

Maria Theresa-I admire her as a historical figure and I wanted to show some intimacy between her and Austria. I would think rulers would have some intimate relationship with the country's they rule, but that's just me. Regardless, in my mind I think Austria has a thing for tough, strong, women. Her husband, Francis Stephen was known to have several affairs despite Maria Theresa being almost always pregnant during the first half of her life and it really bothered her (obviously), but she was busy with children and country affairs to really put any attempt at stopping him.

Anyway, please review. If there are any questions, shoot me a PM/Review and I'll answer them to the best of my ability.


	3. Chapter 3

All usual Disclaimers apply.

Chapter 3

Making his way down to the stage, he stood before what used to be the audience seats. The hall was cluttered with plaster, broken and upturned seats, and rubble. But down in the orchestra pit was large object, oddly shaped and covered by a white sheet. He stepped into the pit, which was only separated from the seats by a charred brass railing, rather than being an actual pit.

With a violent motion, Austria whipped the sheet from the object, dust flying. He blinked as a few particles got underneath his glasses and into his eyes, but once everything settled, there sat a grand piano.

It was a dull black; the once ivory keys stained yellow like a chronic smoker's teeth. Gazing upon the instrument, he flexed his knuckles, itching to try out the damaged and uneven keys. He stood closer to it, his thighs right against the base of the keyboard. He pressed a key.

Austria cringed at the dull, horrible sound it gave off. Certainly not the right note, but at least it still worked. He opened the top of the piano, coughing as dust was released into the air. Daring a look, he found the wires of the piano and the hammers still there, all accounted for. The state of those pieces was an entirely different story. The knotted, copper strings of the piano were covered in dust, creating a fluffy gray sheathe, making it look like thick thread.

The hammers were also padded with dust and some were dismantled. He took off his jacket and scarf and laid it on the bench, and reached in, wiping the dust off the strings, not caring if the sleeves of his shirt got dirt on them. He did the same with the hammers and managed to reattach some of them. Austria reeled back, pressing a few keys.

He set his jaw. Closer…but not quite.

Again he reached in, twisting the knobs that were attached to the strings, tightening them, like one would to do to tune a guitar. It was a back and forth process, tightening, and playing the key, trying to fine the right tone, note, and scale.

It was daunting, but for Austria, it was necessary. He did it all the time with the piano at home. But this was different. At home, his piano was never really that far out of tune, because he took care of it so much. This instrument needed some time.

Time and patience. That was all that was needed in order to get this thing back to the amazing instrument it once was. Heck, this entire place could be brought back to life so to speak.

He did as much as he could to the instrument. He would do the rest once he bought new strings and equipment to repair the entirety of the piano. Austria slipped on his coat and stepped back from the stage, gazing up at it. He chewed on his lower lip, a small sparkle back in his otherwise dull eyes.

He returned home just as it was getting dark, the black street lamps starting to illuminate the snow covered walkways. His house was dark and plain as it always was and the little light in his heart was starting to flicker out. He placed his keys on his bar and went behind it to store his Schnaps away. He didn't bother with much else. Austria shed his coat and placed it in the closet, went up to his bedroom, shed his shirt and collapsed on his bed.

The next morning when he awoke, Austria went straight to his shower, didn't bother with breakfast, grabbed his coat and walked out of his house. He had not greeted the day with such haste in a long time, but he wasn't focused on that. He stopped in a shop he used to frequent. Well, frequent was a bad word now. He was sure the owner would not know him by now. He couldn't remember when he was here last.

And yet the owner of the music shop was still there, behind the glass counter displaying violins and flutes. He had aged a bit since Austria last saw him. The man's eyes must've gotten bad, because now he was wearing bifocals.

"Gott…" the man's raspy voice said when he looked up, "_Herr Edelstein_? Sweet _Jesuline, _it must've been ages…"

The owner didn't seem to be able to finish his thought.

Austria smirked as he walked towards the counter, "Two years, Mr. Wundgeiss."

"If you're here, then it must mean that you still play then. I was beginning to worry."

Austria didn't have the heart to tell the over-the-hill man the truth that he'd been slacking, but he was sure Wundgeiss could guess.

"I'm here to purchase strings for an old 1890 grand piano. I tried to repair some of the strings, but the others are beyond anything my hands could deal with."

"Ah, I understand, well it would be my pleasure to help one of my favorite customers. Wait here, I have just the thing."

The man went deeper into his store disappearing behind the shelves of instrument accessories and maintenance supplies. Austria waited, eyeing the fresh new instruments. All great instruments, especially the violin, but nothing could compare to the piano in his mind.

"Here," Wundgeiss laid out a package onto the glass case. "These. It's hard to find the specific strings that fit an instrument from the 1890s these days, of course. Yet these should do the trick."

Austria grunted in mild approval. He paid the price for them and bid the owner farewell.

"_Auf Weidersehen, Herr Edelstein._ You continue to play for me, _ja?"_

Austria managed a nod before leaving the shop.

He's repaired strings before. Yet for some reason it was slightly more difficult to repair the old grand piano at the opera hall. He did it. There was no doubt about that, and the result worked well. Sounded well. It just took him longer than expected.

It didn't matter. He still could play on it, and it relieved him to know that he still had the passion to play.

He spent a few hours familiarizing himself with this revitalized grand piano, listening intently as the sound filled the hall to the high ceiling. It was beautiful and captivating. It was only a temporary shame that the hall at this point was a ruin. And yet, Austria was certain this all was repairable.

He needed to rewire the lights first, but that required that the boiler room and generator needed to be fixed. In every reality, Austria had little idea how to repair things. Come to think of it, most countries weren't adept at repairing anything this miniscule. Especially since he had to do this on his own.

Well…he didn't _have _to do this all on his own, but others were probably busy and he just needed to get this finished himself. He was a country, right? If he relied too heavily on others he could be like Belgium or Poland, completely crippled when their support system crumbled.

That wasn't a very fair assessment though. Because of the Union, most of the European nations have come to rely upon each other.

With a light groan of frustration, Austria ran his hand through his locks. Generator. Boiler Room. Keep focusing on how to fix those two things.

That night Austria went to bed early again. He didn't eat supper and just showered and pulled over the covers. He was ready for a restful night and it didn't take him long before he submitted to it.

But he was in for a very rude awakening.

Looking back, Austria had no idea what could have allowed this to happen, but most likely he didn't lock his front door. He rarely used to since France and Prussia always managed to get inside his house anyways, there was no point in putting forth a useless effort.

However, he was startled awake when someone broke open his bedroom door. He didn't have time to comprehend what was going on when a blond man grabbed him by the collar and threw him off the bed.

Switzerland growled in rage and kicked Austria in the side, before hoisting him up. He punched Austria in the nose and threw him against a careworn bookshelf. Old books tumbled on top him. Austria tried to get up and defend himself, but he was too weary to do so, and it resulted in knuckles crashing against his jaw. He collapsed back on the floor.

"Switzerland what the hell-!"

He was cut off by a sharp click. Austria focused, gathering his wits. Switzerland was pointing his military issued pistol at him, looking crazed and upset. He had to be upset to pull out his military issued weapon on someone. In his country, although the militia was allowed to carry guns, those weapons were heavily monitored outside of training and warfare. Limitations were placed on them and the punishment was severe if anyone fired a bullet outside of authorized military contexts.

This very act could have his guns and his carrying permits taken away. And then his pastime and hobby at practicing at shooting ranges would be all but gone.

"You! Shut up!" Switzerland cried, eyes wide in fear. Even the hand that held the pistol was shaky.

Austra wiped his bloody nose, feeling that Switzerland was more afraid than he was, for whatever reason.

"What is your problem?" Austria whined, but he remained on the ground, hands up, staring at the barrel of the gun.

"You!" the blond country answered, "Is this what you have been doing all this time? Sleeping? Sleeping while the rest of us go to those gods forsaken meetings to try to fix this never ending sinking ship! Give me a good reason why I shouldn't blow off your head for abandoning your post and fellow countries."

"My presence is not needed in either way. If I fade away it wouldn't make a difference. My country is small now, remember?"

"You're small? YOU'RE SMALL!"

Switzerland was yelling by now and for a moment Austria was convinced he would pull the trigger.

"Then what am I then!" Switzerland continued, "If you fade away then what does that mean for me!"

It then dawned on Austria why Switzerland was so upset. He shook head, "Wait. Is that was this is about. You're afraid you'll go extinct?"

"Why shouldn't I be? I'm watching every country around me hanging on to the last vestiges of their existence. And you sink into solitude, why shouldn't I be worried. I could be the next one to go."

"That's preposterous," Austria finally glanced away from the gun and stared into Switzerland's eyes. "Switzerland, you're economy will be just fine. My own woes have no affect on you or any other country. You will probably remain afloat for a long, long, time."

"How can you be so sure?" the gunman's voice lowered, sounding like a frightened anxious child. "They are taking money and stocks out of the Swiss banks at an alarming rate. How will you know if I don't crumble if you do?"

Austria stood finally, even though a gun was still pointed at him. Switzerland no longer had the conviction to pull the trigger. "Because you have survived worse conflicts untouched. Whereas I…well…"

Austria turned away, leaving his thought unsaid. Meanwhile, Switzerland understood what he meant. It didn't make him feel completely at ease, but Austria did have a point. As much as Switzerland didn't care for Austria anymore and tried to avoid him at all costs, he relied on his former friend as a thermometer that took the political temperatures.

It wasn't until recently that Switzerland became worried, as if economic and political depression was like a disease and he was next if Austria succumbed to it. With a shuddering breath, Switzerland finally lowered the gun, and sat on Austria's bed, looking as if he had been defeated.

"Perhaps you're right. And perhaps you're wrong," he said softly, eyes distant. "If you were there at the meetings you'd know. It's loud with accusations. When we can get Greece to stop being lazy he spends that time blaming Turkey and Italy for his troubles—"

"Which is bullshit."

"I know. But then everyone's blaming each other for not lighting a fire under his ass to get him to do something. And everyone's blaming someone for not paying on some debt or another…"

Switzerland paused and ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know how Germany does it. How he keeps sane and healthy amongst all that?"

"He has a strong boss in that female Chancellor. She's gotten things done in half the time it would take other countries to do so."

Switzerland rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and sighed, "Well…good for him."

* * *

><p>AN: I did my best to show the desperation of some of the other countries...kind of an abrupt ending for this chapter though.

Notes: Look up gun politics in Switzerland. I am for heavy gun control and Switzerland has an interesting way of allowing the majority of its citizens to have a firearm but hold enough restrictions on it so that not everyone is waving one around willy nilly.

Note: the current German Chancellor is Angela Merkel.

I don't like to pick on Greece too much, but the sentiment expressed by Switzerland and Austria is the usual response that most countries have towards him now.


End file.
